


Theomedes' Slave AU

by Behind_The_Hood



Series: Captive Prince Tumblr Drabbles, Snippets, and Prompts [6]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Courting Rituals, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pining, Slavery, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, protective older brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Behind_The_Hood/pseuds/Behind_The_Hood
Summary: Okay, same song and tune. Laurent is given as a slave to Akielos. But flip the script: he’s given to Theomedes.





	1. Crushing Hard

Damen is completely smitten with the new slave, and he knows it’s not a pleasure slave because Theomedes no longer keeps them, at least not since Hypermenestra’s passing.

The slave is to his tastes, and his delicate features contrast his muscled physique nicely.

But Damen would never dare ask for a tumble with what is his father’s, even if he has just won his favor by defeating the Veretians.

So Damen watches from afar, and the slave plays his part to a tee. He’s perfectly demure and quick complying.

Damen’s smitten.

But Laurent, Laurent is simply biding his time. Once Auguste is crowned, he will have their uncle tried for treason, then come marching across the border to demand his brother be returned.

Laurent is luckier than some of the slaves, to not suffer the indignity of being used for another’s pleasure. Though-–he casts his eyes carefully up to the crown prince, who already has his eyes on Laurent, lust lurking in the dark depths–-if Laurent isn’t careful, his luck may run out.

So Laurent keeps his mouth shut, does as Theomedes bids, and avoids everyone else.

Running into the crown prince only a day later does not bode well. Damianos nearly bowled him over playing some silly game of catch with his friend. As it is, he knocked Laurent into the packed dirt all the same.

Damianos stammers over his words and attempts to help Laurent up, a blush on his dark cheeks.

Laurent lets the prince help him up, keeps his eyes low, and quietly thanks him before continuing on his way. Theomedes wanted his sword picked up from the blacksmith, and he’d ordered Laurent to fetch it. Grunt work, to prove his worth.

Damen watches the slave go, his silks just slightly askew from the fall and gold cuffs and collar shining beautifully in the sunlight. He’ll burn if he stays out in the sun for too long.

Nik shoves his elbow into Damen’s side to draw his attention back. He’s got that look on his face again, the scolding one, the one that says Damen’s making himself too obvious.


	2. Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Idk if I can ask for a continuation or maybe some plot points of the short story about Laurent being Theomedes slave, I really want to know how the story would play out

No matter where he goes, Damen cannot take his eyes off his father’s slave. His thin waist, the sway of his hips, the muscles in his thighs…

Damen bites his lip, tries not to think about the slave riding him, tries very, very hard not to think about those thighs working, hips rocking, Damen gripping them, thrusting into him, the slave’s moans as he–

“Oof!”

Nikandros tackles Damen to the ground, slick with oil, and pins him. Nikandros glares down at Damen, no sympathy in his eyes. “Stop staring at the slave, or I’m going back to my rooms.”

Damen tries not to pout. “But he’s so pretty.”

“I don’t care.”

Damen bucks his hips up, and Nikandros climbs off. They sit in the dirt, and watch the slave for a moment together. He’s talking with the blacksmith about Theomedes’ sword; the slave makes a gesture down the length of the blade, and the smith nods along. “He is pretty, but he’s just a slave.”

Damen shakes his head. ‘Just a slave’ does not do justice to the fine breeding that bore his beauty.

This slave is more than just a slave, he’s a piece of the moon brought to earth and given life. His hair the purest gold the ground could bare. His eyes drops of the night sky itself.

He is perfect.

Damen stands before he can think, rushing over and stepping in front of the slave as he tries to leave the grounds. He grabs two dulled blades off the wall by them. “Spar with me.”

Nikandros joins his side while the slave folds his hands and drops his eyes. “That would not be proper, my Prince.”

“Damen, you’re scaring him,” Nikandros says, folding his arms.

“No, I’m not.” And he’s offended Nikandros would think so. He turns to the slave, shifting both swords to one hand, then tilting his head up with a gentle finger. He softens his voice to ask, “Do I scare you?”

The slave keeps his eyes down, and his face turns a brilliant red. “I…do not wish to offend.”

“See, Damen, he’s scared. Now let’s get back to what we were doing.” Nikandros drags him away, but Damen feels gutted.

He scares the slave?

Laurent leaves the grounds as quickly as he can get away with. As soon as he returns to Theomedes’ rooms, he’ll be safe. Theomedes has had two loves in life and has grown old, he doesn’t want a bedmate. Laurent is safe in there. Bored, but safe.


	3. Love Drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Sooo part three of Laurent as Theomedes’ slave would be the best thing since sliced bread

Theomedes has silk pallets on the floor for his favorite slaves to sleep on. Laurent is currently the only one sleeping on them, not for being his favorite, but because Theomedes doesn’t fully trust Laurent yet.

Which is fine, Laurent doesn’t need to gain his trust nor does he want it. He just needs a safe place to go until he can return to Vere.

He wonders if Auguste has been crowned yet, if it’s being put off so they can search for Laurent. He hopes Auguste is already on a boat, coming to take him away from this place.

He’s sure Akielos is beautiful, but he can’t see it passed the slavery and fear he’s living in.

He warded Damianos away for a few precious days by admitting his fear, but that time has passed and Damianos is chasing after him once again, with more insistence now. He tries for gentle, for considerate and caring. He’s trying to dissuade Laurent of his fears, to prove he’s a good man.

Laurent isn’t buying it.

The man has dozens of slaves, why is he bothering Laurent? Are they truly not enough to satisfy him?

Laurent weeps for whoever ends up married to him.

Damen sits by his father’s side, dining with Makedon. The blond slave kneels on a pillow at their feet, and Theomedes will reach down on occasion to pet his head.

The slave is more affectionate than usual, leaning onto his father’s thigh, his eyes half lidded, a pretty blush on his cheeks.

If Damen didn’t know better, he’d think the slave had taken a sip of the love drug. But his father wouldn’t have the slave do that, and no one else is allowed to touch him.

“Father,” Damen asks. Theomedes looks his way. Damen leans closer so the words are between them only. “Is your slave sick?”

Theomedes looks down at the slave. He brushes the hair back to see his face. “He’s been with the slave master today. If he’s sick, they may all be.”

Damen’s brows furrow. “Why was he with the slave master?”

Theomedes looks back at Damen, no longer concerned with the slave. “He dallies when given simple tasks, his training is being renewed.”

Damen feels a spike of shame and guilt. He’s the one stopping the slave at every turn, hoping to hold his attention in any way he can.

He’s gotten the slave punished.

Maybe he is on the love drug then, not to please his father but to make him more complacent. He won’t do well with any laborious tasks, but simple things like pouring drinks and attending the king while he bathes will be no struggle.

Damen doesn’t look back down at the slave, but the thoughts linger in his mind.

Laurent’s mouth feels fuzzy, his mind no better. Every step he takes like walking through water. Hot water.

The slave master orders him to sit, pets his cheek when he complies. The touch tingles and soothes.

The guards are watching, they’re always watching, but they don’t touch, they don’t speak. The loss of their hand or tongue a true enough threat.

Don’t interrupt the training. The slaves must all be perfect. Laurent must be perfect.

A goblet is pressed to his lips, and he drinks as asked, all the bitter wine down until the cup is empty.

He shakes, panting, and the hand roving down his back makes him whine.

“A true prize,” they call him. “So smart and pretty. Literate.” He has so many talents. “Theomedes Exalted picked well.”

“The prince will be pleased with this gift.”

Laurent shudders at the thought of Damianos. Fear and lust in his veins. His body too hot for the cold in his stomach.

He thinks he may throw up, but the hands touching calm him, turn his mind to other, more pleasant thoughts.


	4. For the Little Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: I’m so sorry. Part four of Laurent as Theomedes’ slave please?? Only if you want to, sorry to keep pushing

Laurent lives in a daze, training all day to be perfect, and spending his nights by Theomedes’ side. He loses track of the time, everything passing by him in a blur. The wine makes him sick, and the sickness keeps him trapped, and being trapped makes him feel…helpless.

Damen watches the slave from afar. He doesn’t venture out much anymore. The only time he really gets to see him is at night, during supper. He kneels on a pillow at Theomedes’ side, hand loosely wrapped around his ankle, and leaning into his touch whenever Theomedes deigns to give it.

He always looks sleepy and confused, like the world is weighing on him and he has no idea why.

Damen is almost concerned.

How could the slave master see such a beautiful face and think to drug it so consistently? Days on end the slave has been on the love drug. He wonders if his father would be mad at him for speaking to the slave master about the treatment. He wonders if he’s willing to do it anyway.

So the next day, with nerves on high, he walks into the slave gardens and searches for a blond head and the slave master.

He finds them, the slave master tipping a wine goblet to the slave’s pink lips.

“Adrastus!” Damen calls.

The slave master jumps, nearly choking the slave on wine. He pulls the drink away with a pet to the slave’s blond head. He falls to his knees and lowers his head in a bow, not so low as the slaves, but low enough. “My Prince.”

“A word, if you would?” Damen walks away with the expectation of being followed.

“Is there a problem, my Prince?”

“Yes.”

Adrastus is a fidgety man. He holds his position with grasping fingers. He is the best slave trainer to come through the palace in years, but one slip up and it could all come crashing down.

When they are sufficiently far enough from any slaves, Damen turns to the man, towering over him. “Stop drugging the slave.”

The man gives an anxious grin, and shrugs. “Which slave, my Prince?”

Damianos points with a jerk of his chin. “The blond. Stop drugging him.”

Adrastus looks over at the blond, sitting where they left him, staring at the wall and panting. “He doesn’t follow instruction as he should–”

“I stopped him, every chance I could. I had questions I would ask him and didn’t realize I was holding him up. Any lag in returning from his tasks falls on my shoulders, not his own.”

Adrastus frowns. “You would claim the fault in his actions?”

Damen raises his head in challenge. “I would if my actions caused it. He doesn’t deserve the punishment he’s receiving, and it will stop.”

Adrastus nods, and Damen sees fit to take his leave then. He spares a glance to the slave on his way out, and he finds the slave’s eyes already on him.


	5. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Oh my goood more of Laurent as Theomedes’s slave? Pelaseeee

Laurent ends up shaky and parched without the drug in his system. Like his mouth is full of cotton. He’s never felt so miserable.

Adrastus finds another way to train Laurent that doesn’t involve a drug, but is almost worse in a way.

A thin stick is smacked to Laurent’s limbs whenever he fails to comply the right way quickly enough. Red lines mar his forearms and calves.

At the day’s end, before Laurent is expected to join Theomedes during supper, Laurent is rubbed down with a healing oil by another slave.

Adrastus seeks to hide the evidence of his abuses. Laurent is the only slave swatted. Only slaves with renewed training take the love drug, from what he’s gathered. Those new to training are given time to learn before they’re punished.

Laurent has half a mind to take the stick from Adrastus’ hand and make him choke on it. But he isn’t so impulsive as to blow his cover that easily. He’s worked too hard at staying low and safe for the slave master to take that away from him.

He couldn’t break Laurent’s mind, so he seeks to break his spirit.

Damen sees the slave passing between passages, and catches his eye. He smiles when he sees them sharpen, focused. The slave drops to his knees, bows his head, and waits for Damen to speak.

Damen has many things he wants to ask, but he holds his tongue. He crouches and pets the slave’s head. “I will not keep you.”

The slave nods, rises, and continues on his way.

Damen watches him slip behind a curtain.

He sees him later at supper, kneeling by his father side, head laid on his thigh. Theomedes beckons Damen over.

Damen comes and sits by his father’s side. “Yes?”

Theomedes pets the slave’s hair, cups his head so the slave looks up. “How would you like to have this one for your household?”

The slave’s eyes twitch, the only show of how he feels about that question. Damen hates how much he wants that, even knowing the slave is scared of him.

Damen looks into his father’s eyes. He’s smiling, like he knows Damen will say yes.

Damen bites his lip, glances down at the slave again. His face is back to neutral, and his eyes are on Theomedes.

“I couldn’t, Father,” Damen declines.

Theomedes’ brows furrow. “Why not?”

“He loves you far too much. I couldn’t part him from your side,” Damen says, lies. He knows nothing of how the slave feels, other than that he doesn’t want to go with Damen.

Theomedes looks down at the slave, still looking up at him. “You think so?” He pets the blond hair and the slave leans into the touch, a sigh on his lips. “Alright,” he sighs. “If that is how you feel, I shall keep the poor thing.”

Damen gives his father a smile.

He’ll resign himself to never touching the slave later, for now, he appeases himself with the knowledge that the slave is happy with his current master.

Nikandros gives him a look from cross the table, incredulous and exasperated in equal measure.


	6. Appraisal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Would you be willing to continue the Laurent as Theomedes’ slave fic? I would love to get a full fic from it because all these little parts make me nervous that if we don’t keep asking you’ll stop writing them and I want them allll!

Theomedes makes Laurent a more involved part of his life after that. He has to attend him during baths, sit by his side through every meal, and fan him when the weather grows too hot and humid.

Laurent can feel resentment growing inside of him every day that goes on this way. But hopelessness settles within him as well. He’s been in Akielos well into six months now, long enough to be crowned, long enough to have had a formal search party, long enough to try their uncle for treason, long enough to have been on a boat to and from Akielos twice now.

Auguste isn’t coming.

Laurent spares a thought to wonder why Auguste would abandon him here, to this fate, but then Theomedes requests Laurent fetch him more wine from the cellars, and Laurent puts his mind to that instead.

Damen escorts Lady Jokaste through the palace. New to Ios and looking for marriage, Damen had been her first prospect, but he isn’t dense enough to miss her eyes following after Kastor as well.

They just step out of the gardens when they pass his father’s slave, the one Damen thinks about with every free second he has.

The slave catches his eye, and hesitates for only a second, then falls to his knees to prostrate himself.

Jokaste hums, a smile on her lips. She leaves Damen’s side to stand over the slave. “Rise, my dear,” she bids.

The slave stands, hands folded and head bowed. She circles him, touching his arms and back, tucking his hair from his face. He stands a few inches taller than her, but looks astonishingly similar.

“He’s pretty,” she notes, and Damen joins her side again. She looks up at him. “One of yours?”

Damen shakes his head. “He doesn’t wear my pin,” he explains. “He’s one of my father’s.”

Jokaste tilts her head, lifting the slave’s chin up with delicate fingers. “I didn’t think Theomedes Exalted kept pleasure slaves anymore.”

“He doesn’t.” Damen shifts, feeling odd sharing this with her. “He isn’t a pleasure slave.”

Jokaste hums again, her focus on the slave. “What is your name, dear?”

The slave drops his head once more. “This one is Laurent, if it pleases you.”

Damen had never bothered to ask the slave’s name. It hadn’t occurred to him  _to_  ask.

Jokaste smiles beside him. “Laurent? Veretian. Like the missing prince.”

The slave shows no sign of recognition, but Damen nearly jumps out of his skin at the accusation her words carry. “Lady Jokaste,” he starts. “I don’t think you should–”

She laughs, high and light, her hand on his arm. “Damianos, I only jest.”

Damen doesn’t feel assured, but he holds his arm back out for her to take. “You may go about your duties,” he tells the slave. Laurent.

Laurent bows and goes walking down the hall with all the subtly of a slave. But now, Damen watches him with new eyes.


	7. Blown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: My dude........ theomedes’ slave Laurent au .......... pls give us more when you get the time 👀

Laurent doesn’t shift when a knock comes to Theomedes’ door, but he feels tense. People don’t usually come straight to his rooms. They beg audience.

This is personal.

Theomedes comes out of the bedchamber to the antechamber, pinning his cape to his shoulders to seem more kingly, even in his own rooms. “Enter.”

The doors are opened, and Laurent watches Lady Jokaste enter, a rolled up scroll in her hand.

She looks at him, laying out on the silken pallet with hardly a scrap of cloth to cover himself and the bonds of his slavery shining in the afternoon light from the windows. He blinks at her. She frowns.

“Theomedes Exalted.” She courtesies deep, overmuch for her station. She wants something. “A word, in private.”

He hums and gestures to one of his couches.

She looks at Laurent once more. “More private than this even. I come bearing sensitive material.”

Theomedes frowns, looking at the scroll. “My office.” And they walk in there, the doors closing behind them.

Laurent looks out the window, at the birds flying over the ocean, the roll of the waves. If nothing else, at least Theomedes’ rooms offer a pleasant view while Laurent rots away.

The doors to his office slam open, and Laurent jumps.

Theomedes looks livid, holding a frightened Jokaste by her upper arm in a cruel grip, the scroll crumpled up in his other. His sights are set on Laurent. “Guards!”

The doors are thrown open, swords drawn.

“Take that slave and bring him to the training grounds. Find Damianos. Have him meet us there.”

They split to complete their separate tasks. Laurent is roughly hauled to his feet and his wrist held in a death grip.

He and Jokaste are taken out to the grounds, and Damianos stands waiting, along with his friend and brother. They all look confused and worried.

Theomedes halts their questions before they can come, and lets Jokaste go with a warning of, “If you try to leave this spot, you will find an arrow in your torso.”

He places the scroll down on a table meant for oils and water. He pulls a blade off the wall.

Laurent is released and the blade shoved into his hands.

“Damianos. Take a blade. Fight the slave.”

Damianos takes a step closer, his confusion palpable. “Father, what is–”

“Now Damianos! I will not ask again.”

Laurent watches Damianos hesitate, then head for a sword. Laurent wonders if he’d do the same if Auguste asked.

Laurent grips his sword by the hilt, taking measured steps back. Jokaste is still in her spot, shoulders and brows drawn together, her lip worried between her teeth.

Damianos stalks up to Laurent. “I’m sorry,” he says, and looks genuine, then swings his blade.

Laurent steps back, and Damianos swings again. When the blade is knocked away, Damianos pauses, and it feels as though the whole grounds go quiet with bated breath.

Damianos looks from his sword to Laurent’s. “You can fight.”

His stance shifts, to one of true skill and power, and he swings again, testing.

Laurent is nervous. Whatever Jokaste did in that office has possibly cost Laurent his life. Maybe even her own.

He swings several times, power behind his blows. Laurent dodges when he can, blocks the ones he can’t. He hasn’t held a sword like this, hasn't moved his body this way, for far too long, and his wrist quickly grows numb.

Damianos knocks Laurent to the ground, raising his sword for the final blow. Laurent isn’t going to die here on his back though.

He grabs a pile of dirt and flings it up at Damianos’ face, scrambling away as Damianos steps back and rubs at his eyes.

“Stop,” Theomedes calls.

Damianos coughs, rubbing at his face. He lowers his sword, eyes red, and looks at his father.

Laurent doesn’t lower his sword.

Theomedes walks back over to the table and retrieves the scroll.

He comes to Laurent, unworried of the blade he wields. He holds the wrinkled paper up by Laurent’s face, and Damianos gasps behind Theomedes’ shoulder.

Theomedes’ lips press together, and he lowers the scroll again. Laurent catches a glimpse of his own face.

“Son of Vere.”

And just like that, his cover is blown.


	8. Cold Shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: After part 7 I am begging you for more Laurent as theomedes slave because I am is intrigued I need more! What happens now that they know who he is? Where is Auguste? How does Damen react??

_Before:_

Jokaste stands by Damianos’ side and they watch Laurent walk away. That’s him. She knows it, can feel it in her bones. The missing prince.

King Auguste will be pleased.

“Come, Damianos. You promised to show me your mother’s garden.”

Damianos seems miles away as he watches after Prince Laurent. “Hmm…?” He looks down at her, surprise finding his face. “Oh! Oh, yes. I did. This way, Lady Jokaste.”

Damianos leads her away, and she wonders how best to get Prince Laurent out of here.

She’d seen the marks on the backs of his wrists and ankles, barely there but red all the same. If one doesn’t look too close it could go unnoticed, but she was looking.

Adrastus is a vile man quick to take a pretty penny for any poor beauty brought his way. He breaks them, chains them, bends them to his will, then presents them to the royal family as prized slaves. It seems Prince Laurent has fallen victim to his machinations as well.

King Auguste will be less pleased with that.

* * *

She’s observed the Prince’s routines. He rarely leaves Theomedes’ side, other than to fetch or deliver something for him. Kastor holds no sway over the slave, and Damianos seems to avoid him.

She couldn’t begin to guess why, he’s to his taste. She had assumed if Prince Laurent were here, he’d be with one of the princes. Young and healthy, they’d want to have him for their own and take his first night as soon as they could.

That he’s with Theomedes brings a lot of questions to mind, one’s she doesn’t care to think too hard on. Knowing the prince isn’t being used to warm the king’s bed is enough for now.

Prince Laurent kneels by Theomedes’ side every meal, taking the small bits of food offered to him between his teeth and eating with his cheeks aflame and his head tilted down. Jokaste must admit he’s handling the humiliation very well, and playing his part perfectly.

Jokaste has no true reason to continue leading the two prince’s on, they have no connection to Prince Laurent, but they do have a connection to Theomedes. The closer she can stay to Theomedes, the closer she can be to Prince Laurent.

* * *

_‘I’m on my way.’_

The words sear into her mind, and she crumples the encoded letter, throwing it into the fire lit in her hearth.

Another letter from a forlorn lover, as far as the letter carrier, or anyone else looking, could tell.

She grabs the scroll with Prince Laurent’s face and heads for the door. She’s taking a risk, to both their lives, but this was the only way she could think with a chance to get the prince and escape unscathed.

She hates this plan.

“I need to speak with Theomedes Exalted,” she tells the guards at the door.

A guard knocks, and they wait one long minute before she’s allowed entry.

Seeing Prince Laurent sprawled out on pillows and silks with a bored look on his face, barely a thing to cover himself, and gold cuffs and collar on, makes her feel uneasy.

She cannot tell if he’s been broken or if he’s surviving as best he can, by adapting, but she plans to get him out.

Out of those restraints, out of slavery, out of this country.

Being in the office with Theomedes is more unnerving than seeing Prince Laurent had been, but she holds her own and hands him the scroll. “I’m here on the orders of King Auguste to have his brother returned to him.”

She stands tall, shoulders back, and waits as he opens the scroll and stares.

* * *

_Now:_

Jokaste stands in a room with the prince and Theomedes. Prince Laurent is being dressed in traditional Akielon fashion, the cuffs and collar already removed by the blacksmith out on the grounds.

Prince Laurent has his eyes on her, but hasn’t said a word to anyone yet.

Once he’s wrapped by the servant–not a slave, Theomedes had been conscious of that at least–Laurent sits on a chair, away from everyone.

He finally speaks, arms folded and eyes narrowed. “What do you get from this?”

Nothing ever comes without a price. Jokaste smiles. “King Auguste has promised me more than I could have hoped.”

Laurent’s head tilts, his eyes losing their edge. “Marriage?”

A nod.

He nods in return, and that’s all that’s said between them.

Theomedes speaks up. “Why didn’t you reveal yourself?”

Laurent turns to him, no longer the docile slave who knelt by his side. “Would you have believed me? Would you have ransomed my return if you had? Used me to get anything from my brother? Killed me outright with the claims of spy on your lips? I wouldn’t reveal myself because I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, but I didn’t like my odds.”

Theomedes looks grim, but the words are fair. Theomedes has just walked away as the victor of a war with Vere, their king freshly dead and second prince missing. Vere has been in turmoil for nearing a year now. Theomedes could have and probably would have taken advantage of his situation.

“King Auguste will be here within two weeks' time, by ship and with guard,” Jokaste tells them.

“I shall have a room prepared for you,” Theomedes tells Laurent, standing and excusing them from his rooms. They leave, a servant trailing after as a chaperone. Prince Laurent cannot be alone with a lady, even the fiancée of his brother.

“Auguste has missed you dearly,” she says, her voice low.

Laurent says nothing, and she tries to reconcile the man before her with the one Auguste speaks so highly of.


	9. He Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hiiiiiii It’s been a while since you’ve updated the Theomedes slave Au. When inspiration strikes, I’m eagerly awaiting what happens next :)

Damen is mortified. Horrified.

They’ve had an enemy kingdom’s prince in  _chains_. They may have won a war against Vere, a true show of superior strength, but they have no defense against any retribution King Auguste may demand in return for his brother’s ordeal.

Damen hasn’t seen Laurent around the palace, and with his shame for his part in it all, he’s almost thankful for it. Apparently Laurent takes food in his rooms and doesn’t leave them. He only allows servants and Lady Jokaste inside.

Speaking of whom, she sits by his side during meals, but is no longer the flirtatious woman roaming the halls in search of a suitor. She is a woman to be married to a king. She will be a queen, and every action and word she spares shows it.

She’d been here on a mission from her fiance to find her future brother-in-law.

Damen frowns down at his food, pushing it around on his plate with his fork.

His father hasn’t brought up Laurent or anything to do with him, outside of informing him and Kastor that King Auguste would be here soon to collect his fiancée and brother.

They expect him some time tomorrow, but they will not be throwing a feast as they might have if King Torgeir and his family were visiting.

This is a somber and dangerous visit.

* * *

When Auguste arrives, there is little fanfare. Not that he expects it, under the circumstances.

Jokaste and Prince Damianos greet him off the ship, an extra horse in their care, clearly for him to ride. His guards have no such luxury.

Prince Damianos dismounts, and Auguste steps to Jokaste’s side to help her off her horse. He presses a kiss to her cheek. “How is he?”

Jokaste puts her hand to his jaw, her expression pained. “He…is closed off. He has suffered a great deal.” She opens her mouth to say more, and pauses. “It may be best you speak to him yourself.”

Prince Damianos clears his throat, eyes cast off to the side in some misplaced form of privacy. “Laurent, uh,  _Prince_  Laurent,” he’s quick to correct, “Awaits you in the palace, King Auguste.”

Auguste narrows his eyes, feels his anger taking shape in his chest, in his mind, on his tongue. He bites his cheek, because now is not the time to lash out. Not yet. “Of course,” he grits out.

So they mount, and Auguste sets a pace that his men can keep up with on foot.


	10. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Can we get another Laurent as Theomedes slave because I’m a slave for that story! (Sorry for that godawful pun) I’m so curious about what Laurent and Auguste will discuss and what Damen and Auguste eventual convo will look like.

Auguste is greeted in the throne room, empty save for Theomedes and his sons. Of course; they would want to keep this as quiet as possible, even from their kyroi.

He makes an obvious show of looking around the room before meeting Theomedes’ eyes. “Well? I don’t see him.”

“He’s being fetched,” Theomedes says.

“By another of your slaves?” Auguste sneers.

Theomedes’ lips tighten, and he does not respond.

So they wait in tense silence, staring at one another; thick, threatening emotion palpable. The bastard seems to be the only one at ease, sitting on his father’s throne with one leg hiked obscenely over the armrest. Auguste thought Theomedes the type of man to thrash anyone to so much as look at his throne wrong; it seems he was mistaken.

Finally, when Laurent arrives, it is with a quiet servant at his side, quick to leave. Auguste takes a quick inspection with his eyes, can see the tan lines forming where he’d been cuffed and collared.

His anger flares anew at the dull look in Laurent’s eyes, even as they meet Auguste’s.

Laurent doesn’t hug him, he never does in polite company, or any company for that matter. Now that he is grown, he believes a profession distance is best where enemies could be lurking about.

He steps before Auguste though, a half head shorter, and gives a nod. “Brother.”

Something in his chest swells, and he thinks of pulling Laurent into his arms anyway. He’d thought him gone, lost or dead or worse. And he had been; so much worse. But he’s here now, standing before Auguste when Auguste was sure he’d never see him again.

He takes a breath, and gives a little smile. “Little brother.”

Laurent’s lips twitch, and he steps to Auguste’s side, his right, where Jokaste stands at his left. Once she is crowned queen, their places will switch.

Auguste turns a steely gaze on Theomedes. “We aren’t finished here.”

“No,” he says. “It seems we are not.”

“There will be recompense for everything you’ve done to Laurent.” He leaves no room for argument, and he’ll draw his blade on any man who thinks otherwise.

Theomedes merely nods his head in agreement. “Say what it is you want.”

“Not I,” Auguste tells him, shaking his head. “Laurent suffered at your hand, Laurent will decide the punishment.”

Theomedes spares a glance to Laurent. “Very well. And what does the prince believe a fitting punishment?”

Laurent’s eyes narrow, not in threat but in thought. “I need to think on it.”

There’s a sigh to his words this time, as he says, “Very well.” He snaps his fingers, and a man comes walking in, his pace brisk. “See to it the king and future queen of Vere are placed in a room adjacent to that of the prince. And meals sent to their rooms as well.”

The steward, what Auguste believes to be a steward anyhow, nods and rushes off to have the room prepared.

“They cannot share a room,” Laurent says, watching after the steward. His eyes turn back to Theomedes, tone flat and eyes bored. “They’re a man and a woman. They cannot be alone together without a chaperone.”

Kastor scoffs. “She spent plenty of time alone with plenty of different men,” he mumbles.

Auguste sees Jokaste’s lips purse, but he knows where her tastes lie. She wouldn’t threaten her chance at the throne, even if she did prefer Akielon cock. He’s also fortunate to know her heart lies with him, and he would not abandon her for returning his brother to him.

Damianos speaks up then. “We’ll see to it that the proper accommodations are made.”

Laurent has his eyes on Damianos now, and Damianos the same. Auguste cannot read the look on Laurent’s face, but Damianos’ expression is clear enough. Guilt. Regret. Sorrow.

Perhaps he isn’t so bad, though he’ll only truly decide so after a long and thorough conversation with Laurent about his time here.


	11. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Can we get more Laurent as Theomedes slave - now that Auguste has seen the shame and guilt in Damen’s eyes are they going to talk? What is Laurent going to tell him and what punishment will he choose? Will it be to get Damen as a slave for x period of time? Or just to take Damen back with him or maybe something more subtle??

Laurent beckons in the guest at his door when the knock comes, expecting Auguste. He is met with a hesitant Prince Damianos. His easy recline on the chaise grows tense.

Damianos doesn’t enter the rooms yet, despite being previously welcomed. “If you don’t mind, could I have a word in private?”

Laurent wants to tell him no, to banish him from his sight and bid him never return. He bites his tongue however, and narrows his eyes.

He gestures for Damianos to enter, and Jord and Orlant, the guards Auguste stationed outside his rooms, close the doors, not bothering to hide their looks of contempt for the foreign prince.

Laurent straightens in his seat, and gestures for Damianos to take the one opposite him.

The prince sits gingerly, not holding himself around Laurent as he once did. Like a prince with a slave. Now Laurent is of more even ground with him, and it shows. “I wish to apologize for my actions.”

Laurent cocks a brow, and crosses his legs. “Your apology will not lessen the punishment I dole out.”

“I don’t expect it to,” he admits. His eyes are on his knees. “But I feel it should be expressed all the same.”

“And if I do not wish to hear it?”

Damianos’ eyes trail up to meet Laurent’s, and he can see the pain plain on his face. “Then I will go, and I will not bother you again.”

Laurent’s lips thin and he folds his arms. Leaning back in his seat, he says, “Damianos, your actions have perhaps been the most considerate of any of your countrymen I’ve had the displeasure of crossing paths with. You need not apologize.”

Damianos seems stuck dumb.

Laurent continues. “I hold no ill will against you personally. As I’m told, you were the one who stopped Adrastus from slipping wine and drug down my throat.”

If possible, Damianos looks even more sorry for the mention of that. “I never even bothered to ask your name,” he tries, weakly.

“No one had,” he shrugs. “Jokaste was the first. I believe it kept me safe, everyone unaware and uncaring of what my name might be.”

A knock comes to the door then, and neither says a word, busy holding each other’s eye. The door is opened anyway, and Auguste walks in.

He stops short at the threshold, glaring at Damianos.

“Worry not, brother,” Laurent says, rising. Damianos remains seated, trapped under Laurent’s gaze. “Damianos was just leaving.”

* * *

When they all join once more in the throne room, Theomedes takes a seat on his throne. He looks like a man trying to hold all the power he can, before it is ripped away from him. “Have you thought on a proper punishment?”

Laurent nods, hands behind his back. “I have. Two, actually. The most fitting punishment would be to loan out your own second son as a slave to Vere’s king for seven months. An eye for an eye.” Damianos grows stiff by his father’s side, his face slack with shock. Laurent smiles. “But that seemed needlessly cruel. I thought to give you a choice instead.”

Theomedes raises a brow. “How generous.”

“Option one: you concede Delfeur back to Vere.”

Laurent can see Theomedes’ eye twitch, his fingers tighten around the curl of his arm rests. “And the other option?”

“Abolish slavery, so something like what happened to me never has a chance of happening again.”


	12. Moon Garden, Moon Gazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: You have surpassed my expectations for the punishments Laurent proposes! I’m so curious as to what Theomedes will choose and especially what Damen will want him to choose. Honestly, I hope we can confiance you to continue writing for this Laurent as a slave AU until D&L end up in love/happily married. Can’t wait for the next part!

Theomedes takes time to think on it, and Auguste, along with a servant, walks Jokaste out to the gardens for a moonlit stroll. Kastor was the first to leave, claiming he’d need to bed all the slaves he could before they got sent away.

Damianos and Laurent are all who remain in the throne room.

Damianos looks at Laurent as though seeing a whole new person. “Did you truly consider giving me to your brother?”

Laurent smiles at his question, small and private. “No. I said it to make Theomedes understand how much worse the consequences could have been, were I a cruel person.”

Damianos takes a step closer. “And you are not a cruel person.”

It should be a question, but it isn’t. Damianos stands before Laurent now, a head taller but aware of it. He doesn’t touch Laurent, but Laurent is sure he wants to. “Would you care to join me in the gardens?”

“I’m afraid they are already occupied by my brother.”

“No,” Damianos chuckles. “My mother’s private gardens. I and her slaves are the only ones to venture there in the night.”

Laurent nods and Damianos leads the way. “Your father doesn’t visit her gardens?”

Damianos’ brows furrow, more in sorrow than concentration. “No.”

Laurent thinks that is all he will get as far as this topic goes, and decides to drop it.

Damianos continues anyway. “He and my mother had a…complicated relationship, from what I am told. They were political allies, friends even. There was love there, but it was not the same love he shared with Hypermenestra.”

Laurent nods, unsure of what to say to that. It was more than he expected to receive.

They step out into a beautiful garden full of white and silvery flora. The garden glows in the moonlight, with subtly placed candles giving a romantic air.

Laurent wonders for a moment if Damianos had a reason for bringing him out here.

They stroll over to a hidden bench at the back of a well maintained weeping willow and overlook the cliff to the ocean below. It reflects the moon as the garden behind them had.

They sit in silence for a time; not entirely uncomfortable, if Laurent doesn’t think too much about why they’re out here and instead enjoys the view.

Damianos seems at ease by his side, his mind clear and peace on his face. He catches Laurent staring at him though, and gives him his attention. “Is something bothering you?”

He doesn’t blurt the question, but it comes out against his better judgement regardless. “Why are we out here?”

“I came to think, but I thought you might want to spend a little time seeing the better parts of the palace before you leave for Arles.”

Laurent ignores that Damianos wanted him see his mother’s gardens at night, when they're met to be enjoyed–-and an obviously special place to him–-and instead shifts in his seat to face him better. “What are you thinking about?”

“What you offered my father.”

He swallows, then forces himself to ask, “And what do you think?” He curses his voice for sounding so weak in the air.

Damianos smiles, leaning closer. “They are fair. Reasonable.”

Damianos is very close, his voice as soft as Laurent’s had been. Like they are lovers having a private conversation in the night, hiding from prying eyes. If they were in Vere, it would be the talk of the court. But they are not in Vere.

And they are not lovers.

Laurent turns his eyes back out to the water. “I thought so.”

Damianos doesn’t touch him, but Laurent feels his eyes on him. Damianos is more considerate than he anticipated. He doesn’t treat Laurent much different now as he had as a slave, which speaks a lot to his character.

They remain silent for a time, a long time, until the slaves come through to put out a few of the lights.

Laurent rises then. “It’s late.”

Damianos rises as well, glancing out at the horizon. “I dare say it’s early.”

Laurent feels a smile come, a chuckle slip, and Damianos beams at the small sound.

It brings heat to Laurent’s cheeks. “I’ll be off then. Goodnight, Damainos.”

Damianos reaches out, cautiously, and takes Laurent’s hand. He waits to see how Laurent reacts, giving him plenty of time to pull away, before placing a kiss to his knuckles. “A goodnight to you as well, Laurent.”

Laurent’s chest still feels suffocatingly tight when he lays down to sleep soon after.

He clenches his teeth, his fists, and wonders how much trouble these feelings could lead to.


	13. Choices Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Another part to Laurent as Theomedes’ slave pleaseeeee

Damen closes his door behind himself, his heart pounding. He’s never felt this nervous before.

He walks to his room, unpinning his chiton on his way. He pauses at the blonde in his bed, Lykaios, sleeping peacefully. She’s over the blanket with her legs curled under her, as though she’d fallen asleep waiting on him.

He sighs, and picks her up, shifting her under the covers.

He can see the sun trying to crawl over the horizon through his window, and decides there’s no point in sleep now.

So he sits on his couch in the main chamber, and thinks about how Laurent went with him to his mother’s gardens. That he sat with him for hours under the stars. That he let Damen kiss his hand.

He smiles, his chest rolling in pleasant waves.

He ends up falling asleep on the couch for a short time, his dreams all of blond hair and blue eyes in the quiet privacy of a garden. He has a throw placed over himself, and assumes Lykaios woke up at some point and placed it on him.

A knock comes to his door, then Kastor walks in. He looks displeased. “We’re returning to the throne room. Father has made his choice.”

Damen rises, rushing for a swatch of fabric to wrap around his hips. “Do you know what he chose?”

“I have an idea,” Kastor grumbles, leading the way out.

Damen pins the loin’s head pin at his hip as he walks down the halls, and looks at least mildly presentable when they join everyone else in the throne room.

Damen feels dressed far too casually for this affair.

He joins his father’s side, and notes the disdain on his face, directed at Laurent, who in turn meets Theomedes’ eyes with indifference.

Auguste and Jokaste stand together behind Laurent, her hand at his elbow.

Laurent raises a brow. “I understand you’ve picked one?”

“It was no easy choice,” his father says, but Damen can hear the rumble of his words, the displeasure.

Laurent doesn’t reply to this, but Damen can see his lips thin. “And?”

His father doesn’t speak for a long time, long enough for the tension in the room to grow heavy. But when he does, Damen isn’t wholly surprised by his choice. “Slavery will be abolished.”

Laurent nods his head in acceptance of this answer.

“The details will be worked out and the abolition executed within a year’s time,” he says, then rises from his throne. His anger is palpable. “Now get out of my kingdom.”

Damen’s eyes fly to Laurent’s, his stomach suddenly queasy.

Laurent nods again, and turns to his brother. They’re escorted out by guards.

Damen isn’t ready for him to leave.


	14. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Would you do another part of your Laurent slave au with what happens with Damen and Laurent after he leaves?

Once they’re on the boat and pointed towards Marches, Auguste feels safe enough to wrap Laurent in his arms and give him a long overdue hug. “It’ll be so good to have you home again, little brother.”

Laurent wraps his arms around Auguste, but the grip isn’t as tight as he expects, even when Laurent buries his face in Auguste’s shoulder. “It will be good to be home, brother.”

Auguste pets Laurent’s head. “Are you alright?”

Laurent is quiet for a long time, and Auguste is sure he won’t answer at all, until he gives a minute shake of his head. “No…I’m not.”

The fire in Auguste’s heart rages, but he keeps calm, for Laurent’s sake. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I swear it on my life.”

He holds Auguste tighter after that, leaning more heavily against him, and Auguste continues to pet his hair. Laurent has been through a terrible ordeal, and Auguste will give him all the time he needs.

“Never again.”

* * *

“Ouch!”

Nikandros stares down at Damen, arms pinned over his head and frowning. Nikandros’ frown is deeper. “This is getting old, Damen.”

Damen thrusts his hips and rolls them over, pinning Nikandros now. “It’s barely been a week.”

They struggle against each other for a moment, and Nikandros gets his arm around Damen’s neck. He’s never managed to do that before today. “You’re distracted. Mope all you want, but focus when something needs your attention.”

Damen breaks the hold, and steps away entirely. He’s glaring and panting, shiny with oil. Nikandros stays kneeling on the ground, in a similar state to Damen. “Did someone ask you to do this?”

Nikandros rises. “No one needed to.”

Damen holds his eyes for a moment longer, visibly biting back his anger, then he walks over to the towels, wiping himself off.

Nikandros joins him, and they don’t speak.

He’s pushed a little too hard, and now he has to wait out Damen’s emotions. It may be for the best that Damen is feeling this strongly, so he can work through it rather than let it sit and fester inside him.

They’ve dressed and made it back to Damen’s rooms before his composure snaps. He paces, tangling his fingers in his hair.

Nikandros takes a seat, uninvited and unworried, and watches this go on for several minutes. He hasn’t been to Damen’s room since before the reveal of the prince, but Nikandros will admit if this is what Damen does while he’s in here, then maybe he should be worried. “Damen, talk to me. Why is this bothering you so much?”

Damen’s pacing slows to a stop, his hands sliding to cover his face. He takes a deep breath then sits opposite Nikandros.

He puts his hands between his knees, his fingers folded together, and slumps forward. “We…shared a moment. The night before he left.”

Nikandros raises a brow. “You had sex.”

“No!” he hisses, putting his face back in his hands. He groans into them.

It all makes since after that.

Nikandros leans back in the seat, his worry taking on a new form. “What happened?”

Damen peeks at him from over his hands, then leans back as well, pulling his hands away. “I took him to my mother’s gardens, and we just…watched the stars for  _hours_.”

Nikandros gets out of his seat and sits beside Damen instead, putting his arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

* * *

Auguste finds Laurent, more often than not, staring out at the sea from the south western wing, either sitting by a window and holding a book, giving the pretense that he plans to read, or simply standing there and staring.

You can barely see the ocean from Arles, but Laurent has found the best view.

He comes to stand by his side, and Laurent tenses when he realizes he has company. “You know,” he starts, delicately. “If you wish to talk about it, I’m always here for you.”

Laurent nods, his eyes on the floor. A habit picked up in Akielos no doubt. “I don’t wish to talk about it.”

And all Auguste can do is allow him his privacy.

* * *

Hardly two months later, a runner comes into the throne room, face red and panting. He holds an envelope out, falling to his knees in deference, and perhaps exhaustion. “A letter, from the prince of Vere.”

Theomedes’ lips press together. “Seeking information on our progress, I suppose.” Theomedes holds his hand out in an impatient gesture. “Come on then, let’s have it.”

The runner hesitates, his eyes shifting to Damen. “The letter…is addressed to Prince Damianos.”

Damen’s breath catches, and all the feelings he’s been working to suppress fight their way to the forefront of his heart. Unbidden, a smile comes to his lips.

His father is not pleased.


	15. Letter To and Fro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: What’s in the letter? I’m pass write another part for Laurent as a slave AU!

_‘Damianos,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. It should. I paid triple the rate to make sure it made it to your hands._

_I am…unsure of what to say. Our situation is complicated at best. Relations between our kingdoms are hostile, and word will hit Arles of my enslavement eventually–-only to make the situation worse._

_But, and the truly baffling part is that, I miss you._

_You took the time out of your schedule to be with me, a lowly slave, and when you had the opportunity to make me yours–-in every way–-you did not. And when you learned of my true status, you were the first and only to apologize._

_You hardly know me, and what little I know of you is at odds with what I’ve come to learn of you._

_Then the night before I departed, you took me a precious place, and you had every chance to ask me anything you pleased, and you did not. You sought my company. And solely my company._

_Am I wrong to believe you might be thinking of me as I am you?_

_-Laurent’_

* * *

“Laurent,” Auguste calls, the heels on his boots clicking, echoing, down the empty hallway that Laurent has taken up residence in.

A chaise has been moved to the window, an abundance of pillows and a knit blanket over the back with the star burst insignia on it. Probably Auguste’s doing. Laurent looks over, his knees pulled up to his chest. He’s curled in the blanket now.

The corners of Auguste’s lips are pulled down, like something has left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Yes, brother?”

Laurent feels like a ghost in the halls of Arles. People can see him, he exists, but he is hallow inside, and people tend not to acknowledge his presence.

No one wants to associate with the prince once kept a slave. And anyone who does is ostracized.

Auguste is the sole exception, as king.

“A letter has arrived from Ios. Addressed to you.”

Laurent doesn’t let his expression shift, because it could very easily be Theomedes with updates. “And?”

“And,” Auguste says, looking annoyed. Not at him, Laurent’s sure. “Why is Prince Damianos waxing poetic about you and sending it here?”

For the first time in months, Laurent feels a spark of life in his chest. He’s sure it shines in his eyes, for Auguste recoils.

“Can I have the letter?”

He looks Laurent over, suspicious. But even though Auguste has Laurent’s letters read, he concedes and pulls it from his jacket, passing it over between two fingers.

Laurent takes it into his hands, seeing the broken seal at the back showing Damianos’ lion head insignia.

“Laurent,” Auguste says, then tentatively takes a seat beside him. “The way he speaks makes it sound as though you sent word first.”

Laurent meets his eyes, a rare occurrence, and he nods. “I did.”

Auguste sighs. “I thought as much.” He doesn’t speak for a moment, and Laurent thumbs at the corner of the envelope. Then Auguste places his hands on Laurent’s knees, over the blanket. “I just want you to be happy.”

Laurent nods again, a smile creeping onto his face. “I know, brother.”

Auguste doesn’t leave yet. He looks as though there is something else he wants to say. His eyes reveal he doesn’t know how to say it. “Laurent….did he–”

“We didn’t have sex,” Laurent tells him. “I didn’t have sex with anyone while I was there.”

Auguste’s shoulders lose their tension, if only slightly. He forces a smile to his lips, then rises. “I’ll leave you to your correspondence.”

Laurent listens as Auguste’s heels fade down the hall, then waits a little longer.


	16. Surprises Abound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Will you do more Laurent slave au please?

Auguste brings Laurent his next letter from Damianos when it comes in, and he requested it remain unread. Auguste does not need dictated what is in his letters after hearing Damianos gush over Laurent the first time. He has a perfectly fine idea of what is in the letter, and it is no threat.

Laurent chides him all the same. That all letters should be checked for threat or poison. Perhaps one is forged?

So Auguste has them checked for poison and forgery, but if nothing seems amiss, they are taken by his hand to Laurent without the contents shared.

The letters he receives are thick and frequent, with the return ones much the same. And Auguste says nothing. Laurent smiles when he gets a new letter, eyes lit up in a way they so rarely do anymore. That is enough for him.

Jord and Orlant, at the end of the hall guarding Laurent from afar, report that he sits at his seat all day, and will occasionally ask for a book or a meal.

He’s become a recluse as the months go by, reaching to a year, and Auguste’s worry for him grows with every passing day.

It is with a heavy heart that he puts quill to parchment.

* * *

“You’ve received two letters from Vere, my Prince,” his steward tells him.

Damen smiles as he is handed them both. One is thick, the other is decidedly not. “Two?”

“Yes, one from Prince Laurent, and the other is from King Auguste.”

King Auguste? Dread settles in his gut heavy as a boulder, and he turns to his rooms. “Thank you. That will be all.”

His steward bows and leaves Damen to himself.

He sits at his desk and debates which he should read first. Laurent’s will undoubtedly make him happier, but Auguste’s is short and could be important.

He sets Laurent’s letter aside, to save before he goes to bed. Whatever Auguste has to say, it will at least be quick.

_‘Prince Damianos,_

_Laurent will not ask you for my sake, so I shall ask you for his. If you find yourself with the time to do so, a diplomatic visit for the sake of bettering the relations between our kingdoms would be appreciated. I would be more than happy to host you. We will rule neighboring nations; to have a stable foundation of understanding between us now can only benefit our people in the future._

_Laurent would be happy for your company as well._

_-King Auguste of Vere_

Damen thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

* * *

Convincing his father to let him go is no small feat.

The palace slaves have all been turned to servants, their cuffs and collars removed and put into the treasury. Their year of time is reaching its end, and those slaves with no skill other than bedding are taught a skill. They are kept on by their masters, so their families can still receive the same compensation as before.

Theomedes hasn’t liked Damen receiving letters from Laurent, and he does not want him traveling to Vere.

But Auguste had worded himself well. Building a stable foundation between them now  _will_ benefit their people in the future. It would benefit Damen when he is crowned King to have an ally from what was once an enemy.

So Theomedes permits him his trip, but he is obviously angry as he does so. Damen still smiles as he thanks him.

Standing at the bow and watching as Marches comes into his view, Damen wonders if Laurent knows he’s arriving.


	17. Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shae-la-hyene asked: I want more slave au. Laurent's mood matches my own for the last days so I feel more kindred with him.

Being dragged from his couch, forced into a bath, then tied into his riding leathers is the last thing Laurent expected to wake up to. And yet Auguste had done it.

He cannot decide if it’s better or worse that he’d done it himself rather than have a servant or guard do so.

“Auguste,” he snaps, his hair pulled too hard. Auguste has never been good at braiding. “Why are you doing this?”

“We’re going for a ride today.”

“I assumed as much,” he grits, his head near throbbing. “But why?”

Auguste ties a ribbon at the end, finally finished. Laurent can see in the mirror that, while simple, the braid is decent. His head burns for it. “Your mare misses you, and I miss having a partner to ride with. Is that not enough?”

Laurent doesn’t mention he could ride with Jokaste, or that his mare doesn’t even know he’s returned, for that will not support his point.

So he says nothing, and doesn’t look at a soul as he walks out to the stables with Auguste. He expects whispers as they go, but a glance to Auguste shows a rather venomous look turned toward any hand lifting to hide the ill words nearly shared from someone’s lips.

He doesn’t look up at all after that.

Coming into the stalls, Laurent finds his mare with her butt turned to the door and her head high, and she’s lost a little weight.

Auguste went to his own horse, a stall over still, leaving Laurent a modicum of privacy.

He steps up to the gate and opens it, then closes it behind him.

Her tail whips to the side, and she stomps a back hoof to the ground, as if a warning to whoever entered her space.

So Laurent stands at the door, listening to Auguste bring out his tack.

Eventually she looks over her shoulder at him, and Laurent’s throat tightens when she meets his gaze. “Hi, girl,” he whispers.

She nickers, turning and stepping up to him. He pets her face, her neck, holds her close to him.

“Hi, girl,” he says again, soft and thick, fighting to get passed the lump in his throat.

She nickers again, putting her nose to his cheek and blowing out.

A laugh slips his lips “I missed you too.”

* * *

After giving her an apple-–provided by Auguste-–and getting her tacked, they set out on their ride.

“The forest is that way, Auguste.” Laurent points a thumb over his shoulder.

Auguste keeps leading them towards the western gate. “I know.”

The guards open the gates, Jord and Orlant already saddled and waiting on them, and they all go off down the trail.

Their ride lasts well into the night, with them stopping for short breaks for food and the horses. Wherever they’re going, it’s more of a trip than Auguste initially let on.

When they reach a town, Auguste pulls two caps from his saddlebag and hands one to Laurent, along with a wink. “Best cover your hair, little brother. We don’t want to get caught.”

With it being so dark out, their hair is barely noticeable, so they’ll be stopping here for the night then.

Laurent feels a pinch of a thrill roll up his spine as he puts on the cap and tucks in his hair.

* * *

Their next four nights follow a similar pattern. They travel all day, get a hot meal in the next town they come upon, sleep at the local inn, restock some travel food the next morning, and repeat the process all over again.

Laurent hasn’t had this much fun in a very long time. He wonders for a moment how Auguste was able to escape his duties for this long. He must have left the council in charge.

Reaching Marches has a whole other bustle to it, with it being a port province. It’s mostly shipped goods that merchants couldn’t afford to carry in a caravan, or overlarge bulks meant for Arles. Their first night there is rife with drunken sailors on leave and story telling that leaves Laurent captivated.

When they come upon the next town though, it’s still day light, and Auguste doesn’t have them hide their hair.

In fact, no one truly seems surprised they’re there at all, if not excited about their arrival.

Auguste smiles and waves, and Laurent follows suit, because these people either don’t know his story, or they wouldn’t believe it.

And when they reach the port itself, Laurent sees a castle carriage waiting on them near a dock, with a ship stationed and prepping to unload. The muscles in his body go stiff, and he contemplates turning and riding away while he still has a chance. Has Auguste finally decided to be rid of him?

“Come, little brother,” Auguste beckons, as though he is following Laurent’s train of thought. The smile he sends him suggests amusement about it all.

So Laurent follows like a man to the gallows, and has a hard time keeping the anxiety from his face. Auguste is all he has left, if he were to send Laurent away–-

A man begins walking down the plank, white dress too short and too cold for the weather so far north in Vere.

And when he smiles at Laurent, Laurent worries he may fall off his horse.


	18. Long Awaited Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: I see that you’ve kept your promise to flood my feed with new prompts! You’re my favourite person right now😊 PS hope we get another Laurent slave AU because I really want to know all the shenanigans are idiots will get into in this town once Damen is off the boat - also I need to know if Laurent plays it cool or ends up hugging D in less than 5 min flat.

Seeing Damianos step off the boat feels like a fever dream, and he’s half sure he’s imagining him.

Then Auguste swings off his horse and goes to greet him, a smile on his face.

Now Laurent knows it’s a fever dream, because there is no life where Auguste would smile upon greeting Damianos, let alone _welcome_ him into Vere.

But then Jord steps over and takes the reins of Laurent’s horse, and his frown is deep enough to convince Laurent that perhaps this is real.

He dismounts, and his steps feel tentative at best as he walks up to Damianos. Auguste takes a step away, then sees about Damianos’ effects. A sense of privacy amongst the crowd.

Damianos is still smiling, and it’s soft at the edges, his eyes a match.

“Hello, Laurent,” he says, reaching his hand out to caress Laurent’s cheek, slow and careful. He watches Laurent closely, for any sign his touch is unwelcome.

Laurent takes his hand and folds their fingers, leaning closer to his warm body. “What are you doing here?” he asks, voice barely a whisper in the space between them.

Damianos takes a step closer still. “Your brother asked me to come.”

That doesn’t sound quite right, but Damianos is here before him, and that is evidence hard to contradict.

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a very long time,” Damianos tells him, then brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses Laurent’s knuckles. It brings a familiar heat to his cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”

Only when his hand is no longer to Damianos’ lips can he find his voice. “I’ve…I’ve missed you as well.” He swallows, blinks against the salty sea air. “But you have not answered my question.”

Damianos huffs a laugh, his head giving the slightest tilt. “Officially, I’m here to strengthen to peace between our kingdoms. Unofficially…” Damianos fingers tighten around his own. “I’m here for you.”

Laurent’s heart is pounding, and without much thought behind the action, he takes that last step of space between them and tucks himself into Damianos’ arms.

The letters they’ve shared have built an intimacy between them, small and fragile, but Laurent thinks now that Damianos is here– _he’s here_ –they have a chance to explore it. They are not master and slave, they are equals. There are no pretenses between them as there were in Akielos. Laurent is free to be himself.

He takes a shuttering breath and presses closer. Damianos smells like salt and soap and something uniquely him, he’s warm despite the freezing temperatures, his arms are strong around Laurent’s waist…

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, closing his eyes and putting his own arms around Damianos in return.


End file.
